Running Gun
by Sandysha
Summary: 1st in the 'Riding the River' Series: Johnny is 16 years old and running for his life. Val comes to the rescue. Story also found on Lancerlovers website.


** The usual disclaimers. I don't own them, sure wish I did.

** Running Gun is my first story. I loved the show when I was 18 and love it today. While the writers of Lancer gave us some insight into Scott's life before coming to Lancer, they gave us little of Johnny. If the show had remained on more than two seasons, I believe we would have had the opportunity of seeing more of Johnny's earlier life. Since the original writers couldn't fill in the gaps, the fan writers have taken it upon themselves to do just that. I hope you enjoy my Johnny.

***Many thanks to Alice Marie and Susan for helping with the beta.

..

 **RUNNING GUN**

 **BY SandySha**

.

Dios, he was hot and tired, and hurt like hell.

Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he looked down at his bloody left arm. It was swollen twice its size, and he knew he was in trouble.

"Trouble."

Throwing his head back, Johnny laughed out loud. Dios, he had a lot more problems right then than his arm.

He'd been on the run for six days. Always just one step ahead of the five men who were trying to kill him. Six days with little or no sleep. Six days of looking over his shoulder and trying to watch his back. Six days of running from five brothers who wanted him dead.

.********.

Thinking back to how it had all started, he knew it wasn't his fault. No, not this time. He hadn't been looking for trouble; trouble just always seemed to find him and Dios, if it hadn't found him good this time.

Six days ago, he came out of Mexico after finishing a job. Crossing the Rio Grande at Juarez, he rode into El Paso intending to spend the night. After being on the trail for a week, he was looking forward to a quiet night.

All he wanted was a cold beer and a hot bath, followed by a soft bed, and maybe someone soft to share the bed with him. Hell, all he got was half the beer down when Jasper McClellan walked into the saloon.

Johnny knew the second McClellan barged through the batwing doors that there wasn't going to be a soft bed or anything else for that matter.

Sliding lower in his chair against the back wall, he pulled his hat down over his eyes. Watching McClellan move to the bar, he hoped the man hadn't spotted him. With the way his luck had been running, he didn't know why he'd thought that wouldn't happen.

McClellan ordered a whiskey and then turned to look the room over. It hadn't taken him long to spot the lone man sitting at a corner table in the shadows.

"Well, if it ain'tJohnny Madrid," McClellan laughed as he said the words loud enough for anyone within half a mile to hear.

The saloon went quiet.

Johnny didn't speak nor look up from his beer.

"What brings you to El Paso, Madrid?" McClellan grinned, downing his drink in one gulp.

Johnny looked up, tipping his hat back. McClellan had a grin on his face that Johnny knew spelled the kind of trouble he really didn't want; not then.

Coolly, he answered, "Just passing through Jasper, just passing through. In town for the night and riding on tomorrow."

"Think so, Madrid? I don't. I have a better idea." McClellan's grin still on his face.

"You and I are gonna dance."

"Jasper, I don't have a problem with you. Come on over and I'll buy you a drink. We can talk over old times," Johnny replied, all the while keeping his eyes on the other gunfighter.

Johnny had worked with McClellan a few times. He didn't like the man, but that was nothing new. He didn't like most of the men he worked with.

"Naw, don't think so." McClellan looked around the saloon. "I notice Crawford isn't with you. Don't have no one to hide behind now, do you?"

"Oh, Val's around," he lied.

He'd left Val in Tucson four weeks earlier after they'd argued.

Val tried to talk him out of taking the job in Mexico and going by himself, but he hadn't listened. Worse, he'd mouthed off to his friend.

Val didn't take to someone mouthing off to him. No, not Val Crawford. Val was so mad he'd grabbed Johnny up, laid him over his knee, and tanned his backside.

When Val let him go, Johnny came up cussing and came close to reaching for his Colt. Val looked him straight in the eye, placing his hands on his hips. He didn't say a word, but Johnny knew better than to open his mouth again or reach for his gun.

Val tearing into his rear end had been the final straw. No one and he meant no one was going to tell Johnny Madrid what he could and couldn't do, and no one was going to smack his ass.

He was Johnny Madrid, sixteen years old, and a big-name gun. The name Madrid was famous above and below the border.

No. No one was going to tell a legend what to do.

He was still mad at Val and Val at him, when he saddled up and rode out of Tucson, heading for Mexico. It hadn't been long after riding away, Johnny regretted the argument and leaving his friend like that.

McClellan's voice brought him out of his musings.

"Is that so? Well, Crawford ain't here now. Guess it's my lucky day. I'm calling you out Madrid."

McClellan's grin was gone.

Johnny raised an eyebrow and answered with a smile on his face. "If that's what you want…"

Thinking back on that day in El Paso, he probably should have asked Jasper if his brothers were anywhere around. Yeah, that would have been a real good idea.

 _Ain't hindsight something._

Going up against Jasper McClellan hadn't been a challenge. Jasper had always been slow as molasses, and that day hadn't been any different.

He'd just finished taking Jasper down and gone for his horse when he heard riders coming down the street. Jasper's five brothers had arrived.

As he mounted his horse and started out of town, he chanced a look over his shoulder. The McClellan brothers stood over their dead brother. As one, they turned to look his way. He saw them drawing their guns, and he'd kicked his horse into a full gallop.

He felt the burn in his left arm as he rode away out of town, heading west.

.********.

Early the next day he rode into Las Cruces and hurriedly sent a telegram to Val in Tucson.

.

 _Val Crawford_

 _Four Star Saloon_

 _Tucson, Arizona_

 _Headed your way. STOP. R. G. STOP. Need your help amigo. STOP._

 _J.M._

.

Val knew R. G. meant Running Gun; they'd used it before. Val would know he was in trouble and someone was trailing him. Asking for help told his partner he was hurt.

He hadn't taken time to see the doctor in Las Cruces, hadn't needed one then. Not for the first time, he'd taken the bullet out himself.

Racing west from Las Cruces, he rode across New Mexico toward Arizona, stopping only long enough to rest his horse.

Once he crossed into the Arizona territory, he knew Tucson and Val were only two days away. A day later, he was too tired and too sick to go on. The arm was infected, and he was burning with fever.

When his horse started blowing hard and stumbled, Johnny knew it was time to stop running and make a stand.

.********

So here he was, sitting up in the rocks overlooking the trail, hoping he could stay conscious long enough to take at least some of the McClellan brothers with him.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he sighed and wished he'd listened to Val.

Val Crawford. How could he describe the relationship he had with the older man? Val was his partner. No. No, Val was much more than a partner.

Johnny was five when Val rode into the small Mexican village in Sonora. The gringo gunfighter walked into the cantina, and an hour later walked out with the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. Less than a week later, they were living together.

With Val, Johnny felt safe for the first time in his young life. More importantly, he knew he was loved. During the year Maria and Val were together, the man became the first real Papi he could remember having.

It didn't last long; it never lasted with Maria. Less than a year later, when Johnny was six, his mother decided to pack them up and steal away in the night.

He never forgave her for taking him away from Val. There were a lot of things he could never forgive her for.

When he found Val again or was it Val had found him, he was twelve years old and already using the name Madrid.

For the last four years, Val had been everything to him; friend, older brother, protector, and when needed, the Papi he never had.

He wished he could tell his friend, his Papi, how much he meant to him before it was too late. But it was already too late. Time had run out. He knew he would either die from a bullet today or tomorrow from the infected wound in his arm.

Johnny's head shot up at the sound of horses. The McClellan's were here.

.********.

The sun was high overhead when he realized the McClellan brothers had spotted him.

Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Johnny tried to focus. Aiming, he fired, getting off two quick rounds before the men jumped from their horses. He made sure his shots counted. Two of the five brothers were now lying in the dirt.

Hearing the others cussing, he laughed and shook his head, instantly wishing he hadn't.

Bullets started flying his way, bouncing off the rocks around him. They had him pinned down pretty good.

Peering around the rock he was behind; Johnny spotted the top of a head sticking up. He fired once, and the head exploded.

Johnny ducked back and smiled. Three down, two to go.

Again, he wiped the sweat away. He just needed to hold on a little longer.

The world around him was starting to blur and spin. Johnny knew the dizziness was going to be the death of him.

Bullets were again hitting the boulder in front of him. He ducked as pieces of rock started breaking off and flying into his face. He felt a chip hit his cheek, and blood drip toward his mouth.

Johnny glanced around the rock again. Not seeing anyone, he figured they were trying to circle behind him. When he quickly looked around to see if there was any movement, his head started swimming; the dizziness was worse than before.

From behind, he heard a voice that made him jump.

"You're a dead man, Madrid."

 _Hell, McClellan, I already knew that._

Turning, he saw Matt McClellan standing only ten feet away; his gun aimed and ready to fire.

"Well, at least I got three of you," Johnny said with a grin as he turned his own gun and fired.

McClellan fired at the same time.

Johnny threw himself to the right. McClellan's bullet missed and hit the boulder behind him. A shower of rock and dirt blasted into the air. Feeling pieces of the rock pierce his back, he didn't care anymore. He figured he was bleeding enough now that a few more wounds wouldn't make any difference.

Johnny looked up to see that he had gotten his fourth McClellan that day. Four wasn't bad considering his condition.

He tried to look around, but couldn't move. He'd used the last of his energy reserves in moving away from the bullet.

Johnny waited for the last McClellan brother to make his move. He heard, rather than saw, the man coming up on his right. It took everything he had to look at the man. He could tell McClellan was pissed. Hell, why wouldn't he be? He'd lost five brothers in the last week.

Johnny smiled as he gazed at Frank McClellan. He waited for the bullet that would finally end it. Johnny Madrid was tired, in more ways than one and was actually looking forward to it ending. Sixteen years old, and he was tired of it all.

He'd killed his first man in a gunfight at twelve. Four years and he'd lost count of the number of men who'd fallen before his gun.

His only regret was Val. If he had only been able to make it to Tucson and Val….

Closing his eyes, he let out a breath and waited. He heard the sound of the shot and waited. The pain he was expecting hadn't come. Still, he waited, wondering why he wasn't dead.

Soon he felt like he was floating and realized that someone had lifted him up. Too tired to open his eyes, he let himself drift away.

.********.

"Come on, Amigo." The gruff voice seemed to be miles away. "Open your eyes."

Johnny felt a rough hand on his face, and someone wiping the blood from his cheek.

"Open your eyes, boy." The voice seemed closer.

It took time to fight his way from the deep pool of darkness. He wondered if he wanted to fight any longer, but the voice was persistent. Finally, the urgency of the voice won out, and he slowly opened his eyes.

When he was finally able to focus, he saw the scruffy-bearded face of the one man he wanted to see most.

"Hey, Val. Where did you come from?" He tried to smile, whispering the words, and started to sink again into the darkness.

"Oh, no, you don't. You stay with me." Val put his hand on the young man's face and gently slapped it.

Johnny opened his eyes again. "Val?"

Val took a deep breath and let it out.

"Got your telegram. Figured I'd better come find you. Damn, Boy, what have you gotten yourself into this time? Can't let you out of my sight for a minute."

Johnny felt his arm raised, and his shirt sleeve slit open.

"What did you do to get the McClellan's pissed at you?"

Val untied a blood-soaked bandana from the swollen arm.

"Jasper called me out in El Paso," The answer was little more than a whisper and then a groan.

Val didn't have to ask about Jasper. If Johnny was here and the McClellan brothers were here, then Jasper was already buried back in El Paso.

"Damn it, Johnny," Val cursed as he looked at the arm.

Johnny looked at the face the man was making. "You still mad at me?"

"What do you think?"

Johnny swallowed hard. He knew Val was still mad. He hated being sideways of this man.

"Papi?" He tried a term that he knew always worked on his friend.

"Don't Papi me, boy," Val snapped. The anger registered on his face and in his voice. "I told you not to go to Mexico. Didn't I tell you not to go? But no, you wouldn't listen to me. Now, look at you. I should tan your hide again."

Johnny's temper flared. Pulling his arm away from Val's hands, he turned his head aside. He didn't want the older man to see the tears pooling in his eyes. He didn't feel good, and he didn't need this, not now, not from this man.

"Fine! Leave it, old man. I should never have sent that damn telegram. Should have taken care of them myself. I don't need you. I don't need anyone."

Johnny pushed himself off the ground and rolled onto his knees. He just needed to get to his horse. He'd get to Tucson by himself and find the doctor.

"Fine! You watch your mouth Mister High and Mighty Madrid. Go ahead. I want to see how far you get before you're flat on your face."

Val stood up with his hands on his hips.

Johnny pushed himself onto his feet. He wasn't going to let his weakness show. At least not much. He looked around for his horse. He saw the gelding standing about 20 feet away. From where he stood, it might as well have been 20 miles. Slowly, he started to walk, knowing he was going to meet up with the ground at any time.

To his amazement, he made it to the horse.

Clinging to the saddle, he laid his head against the cool leather. Grabbing the saddle horn with his right hand, he lifted his left leg. His foot missed the stirrup. He tried not to cry out as a wave of pain shot through his body.

When he tried again, his foot found purchase in the stirrup. He pushed up with as much strength as he could. It was no use. He didn't have anything left in him to get himself into the saddle. As his foot slipped from the stirrup, Johnny started to slide slowly down.

A strong pair of arms encircled his body, lowering him gently to the ground.

"Damn fool. You're lucky I got that 'damn' telegram at all. I wasn't in Tucson when it came in. Didn't get it until last night, or I wouldn't have been here now to save your sorry hide," Val spat out.

.********.

Val cringed, thinking how close it had been. He'd taken his time getting back to Tucson. Once he'd settled his horse and gotten a room, he'd checked out the saloon. Jeb, the bartender, hadn't told him about the telegram for over an hour after he'd sat down with a beer and some stew.

Finally, Jeb remembered the telegram and gave it to him.

Val read the simply worded telegram three times. "R. G. … Running Gun…. help…" He'd repeated the words out loud, trying to think. The telegram was sent four days earlier from Las Cruces. Val knew Johnny should have been in Tucson by the time he'd gotten it.

Johnny using the term Running Gun was one thing, but what bothered Val the most was that his friend had asked for help.

 _God, boy, what have you gotten yourself into now?_

Val grabbed his gear from his room and hurried to saddle his horse _._

He thanked the Lord the moon was full. Riding all night, as fast as he could, Val took the route he thought Johnny would be traveling. He stopped only briefly to let his horse rest before moving on again.

Visions of Johnny racing across the desert with someone chasing after him took his breath away and caused his heart to skip a beat. He kept praying he'd meet the boy on the trail.

It was the sound of gunfire that drew his attention to the site of the McClellan brother's gun battle with Johnny. He couldn't believe how close it was. Another few seconds and he would have lost the boy again...this time for good.

.********.

"Last night?" Johnny finally registered Val's words.

"That's right. I wasn't in Tucson." Val settled the almost limp body against his chest.

"Just got back last night."

"Where…where were you?" Johnny leaned his head back against his friend.

"Nogales. I got me a job down there. Signed on with Worthington."

Val watched Johnny's reaction. He saw the frown on the boy's face.

"What? You thought I was just gonna' sit around and wait for you to come back or hear you got yourself killed? I gotta' life too, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Johnny answered with disappointment in his voice. Yes, he wasn't there, but the thought of Val hiring onto a job without him hurt. "How much you getting?"

"Ten a day and bullets," Val answered as he looked at the now bleeding arm.

"Hell, Val, you're worth more than that. That's a lot less than you normally get." Johnny tried to push himself up.

"No, that's what **I** normally get, Amigo." Val held the younger man tighter. "That's all **I'm** worth. I'm not you, Mister Madrid," Val answered, knowing it was the truth. "The only time I get more is when you're with me. No one wants to pay top dollar for a has-been, second-rate gun hawk."

Johnny was quiet. Slowly, he shook his head.

"You're not second-rate, Val, or a has-been. You're a top gun." He wasn't ready to accept that his friend was anything less.

"No, kid," Val sighed. "I'm over the hill now, getting too old and too slow. Surprised I've lived this long. You know what Worthington asked when I rode in down there? He wanted to know where you were. Everyone knows we ride together. It's you they want. Hell, don't expect I would even get a job if it weren't for you."

"That's not true, Val. You're good. You're real good. I would have been dead a long time ago if it weren't for you. You know it's the truth. You've saved my hide more times than I can count." Johnny swallowed hard. "By the way, thanks for coming after me." He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip.

"You think I wouldn't? Now lay still and let me tend that arm." Val laid Johnny on the ground. "You dig the bullet out yourself?" He could tell the wound wasn't clean, and the edges were jagged.

"Yeah. Hurt like hell. Couldn't sew it up though. Didn't have time."

They were silent for a few minutes while Val tried to clean the wound out.

"That hurt?" Val could see how bad the red, inflamed wound was.

"Naw. Haven't felt anything since yesterday. Looks bad, don't it?"

"You been running since El Paso?" Val changed the subject.

"Yeah, it's been six days."

Val shook his head and tried to push the image out of his head.

"Things go alright in Mexico?"

"Yeah. Just a bunch of bullies. It didn't take me long to take care of them. The people down there were real nice folks. You would have liked them," Johnny answered, taking a couple of deep breaths. The wound itself didn't hurt, but he felt pain shooting up the arm and across his chest.

"They pay you what they said they were going to pay?" Val asked, already knowing the answer.

Johnny didn't answer.

"How much did you get paid?" Val stopped bandaging the arm and looked at the pale, sweat-drenched face.

Hesitating, Johnny turned his head to look at his friend. "Twenty."

"Twenty? Twenty what?" The gruff voice was back. "Don't tell me you rode all the way down there for twenty dollars?"

"No, Val, it was… twenty pesos." Johnny winced as the bandage tightened on his arm.

"PESOS? That's what, five American dollars? Did you keep it or did you give it back?" Val was shaking his head. "Did they at least feed you? You look thinner."

"They didn't have nothing, Val. Those men had taken everything they had. Took their woman too," Johnny answered, trying to defend himself. "Yeah, they fed me. Good tamales, too."

"How many men are we talking about Johnny? They said there was only one."

Val sat back and waited for the answer.

When the villagers found Johnny in Tucson, they said there was one man who was terrorizing the village. They begged for Madrid's help, saying they would pay him a hundred dollars, American.

"There was only one man — one jefe. The rest were just hanging onto his coattails. Once I took down el jefe, the others weren't nothing to worry about." Johnny hedged the answer.

"How many, John?" Val's use of his proper name was never a good sign.

"Ten... maybe fifteen, but like I said, once I took out the head hombre only a few of the others wanted to hang around. I took them down without a problem."

"Fifteen?"

Val's heart sank. He ran his hand over his face and looked away. His heart skipped a few beats at the thought of the boy going up against fifteen men by himself.

.********.

Val knew there would be more than the one man the villagers told them about. There always was. He also knew they wouldn't pay what they said they would. They never did. Most of the time, their pay was a few tamales and a place to lay their heads.

That was why people sought the kid out. They knew he was a soft touch for a cause. They knew he'd risk his life for them with little or no thought for his own safety and, for little or no money. That's why Johnny Madrid had become a legend in Mexico. That's why the two of them seldom had to pay for a drink or food south of the border.

The sight of Johnny Madrid riding into a town or village south of the border caused people to stop and stare. Val had actually seen people come over to the boy and bless him. He was called a hero and champion south of the border.

It was a couple of years ago when it started. At first, Val saw the fame go right to the kid's head. The first time he'd gone off by himself, thinking he was a big man, had been a disaster. The village he was helping was destroyed, and Johnny badly wounded. After that, Johnny, with Val's help, found a way to cope with the attention.

Val now saw the young man almost embarrassed by his fame, not knowing his own worth.

While south of the border, they called him a hero; north of the border, they called the boy a cold-blooded killer. Neither of them could figure out why until one day Val saw a dime novel written about Madrid in a store in Yuma. He bought one of the books and showed it to Johnny. It was called 'Johnny Madrid; The Boy Pistolero.'

Johnny read the book while Val leaned back against his saddle and watched. He'd already read it and knew what it said. It made Johnny out as a young man who killed ruthlessly and without remorse. A gunman that terrorized the border, killing women and children.

Val remembered Johnny finally standing up and looking at him. The sadness he saw in those blue eyes tore his heart out.

"Val, how can they write that mierda about me? You know I wouldn't hurt a woman or a kid." Val could hear the hurt in his voice. "I never killed anyone that wasn't trying to kill me first. How many men do they know I've faced down? Hell, I don't even know."

"Don't pay that book any mind, Johnny," Val replied. "There ain't nothing you can do about it, so you need to put it out of your mind."

"Val, is that book the reason folks north of the border treat me like they do? The reason they look at me like I'm some kind of monster whose gonna shoot them in their sleep?" Johnny sat down, crossed legged, in front of his friend.

"Yeah, suppose it is. That book and the other's like it."

"OTHERS? There are other books about me? They all like this one?" Johnny asked, shaking his head and looking at the book he held in his hand.

"Didn't read any of the others. I saw them at the mercantile in Yuma." Val reached out and tightly squeezed the young man's arm. "Johnny, forget it. You need to forget that crap."

Johnny looked at the book in his hand one more time before throwing it into the fire.

Val never again bought one of the books and cringed when anyone said anything about them.

.********.

"You lay here, and I'll get the McClellan's buried," Val said as he put a blanket over the young man. "We'll head out as soon as I finish."

It took Val over three hours to bury the five men. He searched them and their saddlebags to see if there was anything they could use. He then took the tack off the five horses and turned them loose.

Finally, he turned back to Johnny lying as still as death where he'd left him. Leaning over the boy, he held down his gun hand while he shook Johnny's shoulder. He'd learned long ago the price of startling the young gunhawk was to come face to face with his .45.

"Come on, let me get you on my horse. We're riding double."

Val reached down and pulled Johnny up.

"I can ride by myself." Johnny weakly protested.

"I ain't stopping every five minutes to pick your sorry ass up off the ground. Your riding with me, and I don't want another word out of you," Val answered as he guided the young gunfighter to the horse.

Once Johnny was in the saddle, Val reached down and picked up the reins of Johnny's horse, before climbing up behind his injured friend.

"Lean back now and hush," Val said as they started.

They rode in silence for almost an hour, with Johnny leaning back against Val's chest. Val could feel the heat radiating from the smaller body.

"Val?"

"Yeah."

"You get an advance on that job in Nogales?"

"Naw."

Johnny waited a few minutes before speaking again.

"Val?"

"Yeah."

"We got enough money for the Doc?"

"Yeah," he snorted. He wanted to say _'Thanks to the McClellan brothers'_ but held his peace. He'd taken close to two hundred dollars off the five brothers before burying them.

"We got enough for a beer after the Doc?" Johnny asked, hopefully.

"You're too young to drink."

"Pffft. Ain't been that young in a long time, and you know it."

They rode quietly for a while.

"Think Worthington would hire me on?" Johnny asked, fighting to keep his eyes open. They had talked about joining the range war near Nogales before Johnny left for Mexico. They knew there was only one side they wanted to be on and that was working for the Worthington Ranch.

"Yeah, he'll hire you on. Hell, with you, I think I can talk him into more money for me," Val laughed.

Val put his hand on Johnny's forehead. They needed to get back to Tucson; the boy needed a doctor and fast.

"Val?"

"Yeah."

"Did I thank you for coming after me?"

"Yeah, you did."

"Back there... well, I ... well, I was thinking there at the end I was about to …. well, you know. I wasn't afraid mind you," Johnny quickly added. "Just thought I was gonna' get boxed in without telling you..."

"Tell me what?"

"Well, tell you how much you mean to me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, well, like I said…I just want you to know you mean a lot to me."

Val swallowed back his emotions, "Well, I feel the same way about you."

"You do?"

"Yeah. You know, I do. Always have. Always will." Val swallowed and looked away. Looking forward again, he said, "Besides, like I said, I get paid more with you around than if it's just me."

Johnny wasn't fooled. Even though the two had never used the word 'love,' he knew the man loved him as much as he loved the man.

They rode along for another half hour. Val could feel the younger man becoming restless.

"Val!"

"Yeah?"

"I don't feel so good."

Val looked down at his friend's face, now a shade of green.

"You gonna' be sick?"

Johnny nodded, afraid to open his mouth.

"Don't you puke on me, boy," Val growled as he pulled the horse to a stop.

"Lo siento," Johnny moaned.

Val jumped off the horse and reached up, grabbing Johnny by the belt and collar and hauled him off the horse and to the side. He held the boy's head as he emptied his stomach.

"Here," Val offered a canteen. "Rinse your mouth first, then take a swallow."

Johnny took the canteen and a sip of the warm water. He washed his mouth and then spat it out. He took a small sip and then another before handing the canteen back. They sat there for a few minutes until Johnny was able to push himself upright again.

"You feel like going on, or do we need to stay for a while longer?" Val put the canteen back on his saddle horn.

"I'm alright," Johnny said as he waited for Val to lift him back onto the horse.

"Sure, you are." Val shook his head.

He helped Johnny back into the saddle and then settled himself behind him. Taking up the reins, they started moving again.

Another half-hour passed.

"Val?"

"What?"

"You still mad at me?" Johnny asked the question again.

"You gonna run off like that again?"

"Don't know. Depends on what the job is."

Val looked down at him and shook his head.

"Damn fool hard head," Val said as he pulled the boy's shoulders closer to his chest, holding him tightly against him. "I should kick your sorry ass all the way back to Tucson."

Johnny smiled. They rode along for some time before Johnny spoke again.

"Papi?"

"Yeah."

"So, are you still mad at me?"

"No, hijo. I ain't mad. Now go to sleep," Val answered and then smiled to himself.

They were quiet for a long time. Val could feel Johnny's head rolling against his chest with each sway of the horse.

"Val?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry, I didn't keep any of the money from the village."

"Did they at least ring the mission bells?" Val asked. It wasn't unusual to hear the sound of mission bells when Madrid rode out of a village or town he'd helped.

"Yeah, when I rode out." Johnny smiled. Truth be told, the sound of the mission bells was payment in itself to him.

Johnny looked up to see a small smile on the gruff face. He knew everything was going to be alright.

.********.

"So, you gonna tell me what happened in El Paso with Jasper?" Val asked, looking down at his friend and tightened his hold on him again. He could feel the boy starting to relax against him.

"Aww, Val… I swear… it wasn't… my fault. All I wanted was a beer...," his voice trailed off. He took a deep breath as his chin dropped toward his chest, and the darkness overtook him.

.

End

August 2018 Updated June 2019 revised June 2020


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